


Hold Me Close

by Chazzam



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chazzam/pseuds/Chazzam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Okay, so maybe Kurt shouldn’t have bought the pillow at that sketchy shop on the corner with all the weird things in jars.  But it was half the price of the same pillow online (not that he’d been searching for one online, of course not), and he was living on an intern’s budget, and as used to sleeping alone as he might be, the thought of another person’s arm, snug and warm around his body, made him <em>yearn."</em> (fluffy little pillow!Blaine fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Close

**A/N:** I saw [this gifset and prompt on tumblr](http://gingerandfair.tumblr.com/post/81586783031/thegleekyginger-animateglee-i-see-an-au), and I simply couldn't resist....

 

*****

 

Okay, so maybe Kurt shouldn’t have bought the pillow at that sketchy shop on the corner with all the weird things in jars. But it was half the price of the same pillow online (not that he’d been searching for one online, of course not), and he was living on an intern’s budget, and as used to sleeping alone as he might be, the thought of another person’s arm, snug and warm around his body, made him  _ _yearn.__

So he bought it. The shop may have been sketchy, but the pillow was still in its original packaging, so he figured it would be fine. The old woman who sold it to him had winked at him when he paid, and asked him what he was going to name it.

Kurt laughed lightly and told her that he was _not_ going to name the pillow, who would even _do_ something like that, and anyway, it was really just a gag gift for a friend.

And then he promptly went home, and named the pillow Blaine, and slept an hour later than usual the next morning because he never could have imagined how much he would love being held in bed.

He didn’t mention Blaine to Rachel or Santana - lord knows those two would have had a _field_ day, between Rachel’s dramatic and obsessive “concern” and Santana’s snark and public ridicule. Instead, he kept Blaine lovingly tucked away in his steamer trunk during the day, only pulling him out at night and wrapping himself up in the plush embrace, sighing happily and refusing to let himself think too deeply on the psychological implications of it all. This was about quality of sleep, he reasoned, nothing more.

It was two weeks before he realized that the shop was gone.

Gone, as in _gone._ Not merely closed, not even abandoned. Where the shop had been was now a grocery store, one that appeared to have been in business for quite some time.

Kurt reasoned that he must be confused. The shop must be on a different corner. He was still getting his bearings in Bushwick, after all, even after living there for well over a year. It didn’t matter that neither Rachel nor Santana remembered the place, even though Kurt _very_ clearly remembered peering in the front window with Rachel and talking about how it looked like something out of Diagon Alley.

Rachel was just distracted. Kurt was just confused. He was absolutely _not_ going crazy.

Over the following months, Kurt stopped thinking about the shop. He had a lot going on with his internship and his classes at Parsons, more than enough to occupy him until he was ready to collapse into Blaine’s constant embrace at the end of the day.

He eventually concluded that being alone was getting to him. That even though he was accustomed to independence, being single in this city somehow stirred a deep, dormant loneliness inside of him, and that purchasing Blaine had just been a response to that. He refused to believe that he was beginning to form warm and tender feelings about a _pillow._ He refused to believe that dating didn’t really appeal to him, because then he wouldn’t be able to sleep with Blaine every night. He wasn't attached to Blaine. He couldn't be. Blaine was nothing more than a security blanket (so to speak). He was a _thing._

But try as he might, he couldn't rationalize away the deep, sweet calm that spread through his body when he snuggled himself into Blaine’s arms. Well, _arm._ But still. He couldn't deny how much it soothed him.

And that had to count for _something_ , didn’t it?

Kurt found himself gazing at the thin sliver of moon he could see through the top of his bedroom window one night. He sighed, warm and drowsy and content, letting the loneliness roll over him instead of making himself curl away from it, pulling Blaine’s arm more tightly across his chest. “I wish you were real,” Kurt murmured to Blaine, to the moon, to the silence around him.

Kurt could have sworn he felt Blaine’s arm around him tighten in response.

The next morning, Kurt awoke to a feeling of absolute peace unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Which ended abruptly when he realized that Blaine was gone, and in his place lay a man, about Kurt’s age, with his arm wrapped snug around Kurt’s body.

Though a part of Kurt instructed him to go back to sleep, to snuggle closer to the lovely-smelling boy wrapped around him, a much bigger part of him was utterly confused and completely fucking terrified.

Kurt sat bolt upright and screamed before he could even consider stopping himself. The man beside him sat up too, looking around the room with the wide, fearful eyes of a caged animal.

“Wh-who are you? How did you get in here? What on earth do you think you were _doing?_ ” Kurt shrieked, leaping to his feet and looking around desperately for something he could use as a makeshift weapon; Santana and Rachel had obviously left for the day, and he doubted that the neighbors would be rushing upstairs to come to his aid. He would have to handle this on his own.

The man held up his hands defensively, staring at Kurt with enormous, saucer-shaped eyes. “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered out. “I don’t know--”

“Who are you?” Kurt repeated, his pulse slowing ever so slightly. The man didn’t look _dangerous,_ after all.

The man licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I’m Blaine.”

Kurt clutched at the clothing rack behind him to keep from falling down.

“What are--is this some kind of--who told--” Kurt allowed his words to trail off into nothing, mouth hanging open and staring at the man--at _Blaine_ \--and seriously contemplating the theory that this was all a dream.

Kurt let go of the clothing rack and pinched himself. “Ow.”

Blaine furrowed his brow at that, but kept his eyes on Kurt and remained quiet, for which Kurt was grateful. He wasn’t sure he could process any more information at the moment, and his pillow was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you hungry?” He asked abruptly.

Blaine blinked. “Um. Starving.”

Kurt nodded, letting in one long, deep breath and then letting it out slowly. “Okay. You make the coffee and I’ll fry up some eggs.”

  
*****

  
Kurt watched Blaine out of the corner of his eye in the kitchen, and tried not to think about how attractive he was. Blaine was smaller than Kurt, with a tight little body that Kurt couldn’t help but notice in the tank top and boxer shorts he had been wearing when he woke up. He was wearing Kurt’s robe over his underthings now, too-long sleeves rolled up so he could make coffee, shuffling around the kitchen so as not to slip out of Kurt’s oversized slippers.

Kurt turned back to the pan on the stove in front of him and refused to think of Blaine as charming or adorable. He couldn’t afford to be charmed by Blaine; not until he got some answers.

Blaine poured the coffee, politely asking Kurt how he took it as Kurt set two steaming plates of scrambled eggs and buttered toast on the table. When they sat down, Blaine put his napkin into his lap, and began eating his scrambled eggs more neatly than Kurt would have ever thought possible. Feeling oddly self-conscious, Kurt began taking small, measured bites as well.

“So,” he finally ventured, after he had enough coffee in his system to think clearly, “not that I object to finding handsome men in my bed on _principle,_ but do you mind telling me why I happened to find _you_ there this morning?”

Blaine blushed, his mouth quirking into a slight smile. “Honestly? I have no idea. The last thing I remember was going into this little shop on Myrtle, it, uh,” Blaine laughed, casting his eyes down to his plate. “It was kind of an...occult shop? My friend Tina, she’s into that kind of thing, and she swore up and down that it was the real deal--”

Kurt swallowed thickly. “On--on Myrtle? Do you remember what it was called?”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, scratching the back of his neck. “Darkhorse Gifts. It was really weird, actually, because I’d never even noticed it before she told me about it. I always thought there was a grocery store there for some reason. Shows how well I know the neighborhood.”

“Yeah. Weird,” Kurt agreed faintly, trying to keep the swooping feeling in his stomach from turning into nausea. “Do you--live nearby?”

Blaine nodded. “On George Street.”

“Oh!” Kurt gave a relieved laugh. “We’re on George now, actually. Perhaps you wandered into the wrong apartment.” Yes. That would make sense, if Kurt ignored all the factors that caused it to _not_ make sense. It made more sense than his _arm pillow_ turning into-

No. That was crazy. And Kurt was not far enough along in his career to completely lose his marbles just yet.

Blaine frowned. “I don’t...I mean...were we at a party or something last night? Because I honestly can’t seem to remember anything after going into that shop. You know, I wonder if I got heatstroke or something, because it wasn’t even air-conditioned and there didn’t seem to be _any_ ventilation, and I drank this weird potion, or well, she _called_ it a potion, and I know that’s really stupid, but I was just really in a funk and I--”

Kurt closed his eyes at that, and took a deep breath. “Blaine?” He asked carefully when he opened them, cutting gently into Blaine’s rambling, “On what _date_ did you go into that shop?”

Blaine raised an eyebrow at him. “July thirteenth,” he said slowly, his expression growing apprehensive.

“What year?” Kurt asked, forcing himself not to allow his voice to go too high.

Blaine swallowed. “2015,” he all but whispered.

“Oh thank god,” Kurt breathed. “That would have been--Blaine, it’s still 2015, but it’s--it’s November.”

Blaine just stared at him. “November.” It was fairly clear that he thought Kurt was completely insane.

“Yes. November seventh, to be exact. If you don’t believe me, go look out the window.”

Blaine immediately got up from the table and ran to the window, gasping sharply at the late autumn world outside.

“I...but...how? I don’t?” Blaine continued to stare through the window, apparently at a loss for words.

“I don’t know either,” Kurt said softly, coming up beside him. “But it sounds to me like you’ve probably been _missing_ since July. I imagine there are people that are very worried about you.”

“Oh my _god,”_ Blaine groaned. He chewed his lip for a moment before casting his lovely, long-lashed eyes up to meet Kurt’s. “Could I, um, maybe borrow some clothes? After I help with the dishes, of course.”

Kurt blinked. Who _was_ this guy?

 

*****

 

Even though Kurt refused to think about what it could mean, Blaine the Pillow was nowhere to be found.

He barely slept a wink that night.

 

*****

 

The next day was Sunday, and Kurt was still in his pajamas when he answered the door at 11:00. On the other side stood Blaine, in a perfectly coordinated outfit with all the old-fashioned charm to complement his dark gelled locks perfectly. In one hand was a bag, and in the other was a large tupperware container.

“Hi,” Blaine said, smiling. “I hope it’s alright that I stopped by? I realized that I didn’t have your phone number.”

“Of course it is,” Kurt replied, flushing a bit when he realized just how happy he was to see Blaine. “I, uh, promise that I do have wardrobe choices that aren’t sleepwear.”

Blaine laughed softly. “I believe you. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I’m here. I wanted to return these, and to thank you for everything.” Blaine held out the bag, and Kurt peered inside to see the outfit he had loaned Blaine yesterday neatly folded inside.

“I also brought you some cookies? My roommate made them. She’d actually been planning to move out because she thought I was never coming back and we’re really good friends, so. She celebrates by baking.”

Kurt accepted the container, which was heavier than he’d been expecting. “It appears she had a lot to celebrate,” Kurt said with a grin. “Thank you.”

Blaine stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment, a blanket of silence falling over them until they both began to speak at once.

“So I guess I should probably get going--”

“Would you like to come in? I was just about to make some tea and I’d love some company--”

They both laughed, glancing down shyly.

“Sure,” Blaine answered quietly. “That would be great.”

Blaine filled Kurt in on the events of the past twenty-four hours as they drank mango ceylon tea and ate Tina’s delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. His parents lived in Ohio, quite close to Kurt’s family no less, and they would be flying in the following day. Blaine had gotten in touch with the administrative offices at NYADA, where he had been set to begin his sophomore year. He would be meeting with them later in the week, and would be arranging to start classes in the spring semester. “That only leaves a job,” Blaine concluded with a shrug. “I was working at a restaurant, but they filled my position months ago. My parents agreed to help me out until I can find something, though, so that’s good.”

“You are handling this remarkably well,” Kurt observed. “Far better than I would be, if I there were four months of my life that I couldn’t account for.”

Blaine shrugged, looking a bit shy. “Yeah. It’s weird. But it’s like...all the stuff I was stressed out about before just seems so much more manageable now, you know? And I wonder--” he trailed off, staring at Kurt with intensity.

“You wonder?” Kurt prompted, heart pounding.

Blaine sighed, playing with the string of the teabag in his empty cup. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

Kurt bumped his shoulder against Blaine’s without even thinking about what he was doing. “Try me.”

“Well, I--when I woke up yesterday, before you started screaming, I mean--I felt like. Um. Like it was a normal morning. Like I’ve been waking up with my arm around you _every_ morning? I--I couldn’t really sleep last night, actually, because it felt strange to sleep alone.” Blaine blushed fiercely, fingers clutching the edge of his teacup. “I’m sorry, that’s so creepy.”

“No it isn’t,” Kurt said quietly.

Blaine turned to him in surprise. “It isn’t?”

Kurt shook his head. “No. But if I tell you why, _you_ are going to think _I’m_ crazy. And probably also creepy. So I probably shouldn’t.”

Blaine physically turned his body to better face Kurt. “You definitely should,” he countered.

Kurt nodded and closed his eyes. “I definitely should,” he agreed. Because if nothing else, he owed Blaine what little information about the past few months he might have. “This is going to require you to...be very open-minded.”

“Not a problem, especially given the past couple of days,” Blaine answered with a laugh.

“Okay. So, that shop - Darkhorse Gifts? I went there too. But it’s not really there. I mean, it _was,_ but it also wasn’t, because there’s a grocery store there now that everyone else I know swears has been there all along. But I went there in August. I have no doubt at all in my mind about that.”

Blaine nodded, looking interested. “Okay, so like some sort of interdimensional shift or a glitch in the space-time continuum or something? Huh.”

Kurt blinked. “You don’t seem particularly fazed by this information.”

Blaine smiled sheepishly. “I was there buying a _potion,_ Kurt. You’d be surprised what doesn’t faze me.”

“Allow me to test that theory, then. While I was there, I bought a boyfriend pillow.”

“A _what?”_

Kurt closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Blaine react to this particularly humiliating piece of information. “They’re pillows, but they have a plush arm attached? So you can lie your head on the pillow and feel the arm wrapped around you. They’re for people who, um, like to be held at night.” Kurt opened his eyes and stared directly into Blaine’s eyes, daring him to laugh. “Like me.”

Blaine wasn’t laughing. “Oh,” he said, his voice soft and gentle, his eyes huge and tender and warm. Kurt couldn’t help but relax a bit.

“The woman who worked there - she asked me what I wanted to name it, but I didn’t actually name it until I got home.”

“And what did you name it?”

Kurt covered his face with his hands to hide his mortification. “Blaine,” he admitted. And even though his voice was muffled, he knew that Blaine had understood him.

“Kurt.” Blaine’s voice was almost a whisper. He tugged gently at Kurt’s arm, and Kurt allowed his hands to drop away from his face. He stared straight ahead, still unable to face Blaine.

“I didn’t--I figured I was just getting weird and eccentric from loneliness, but it really felt like I was being held by a _person._ And the night before I woke up next to you, I actually wished that Blaine was real. Out loud. And now the pillow is gone.”

Kurt startled slightly at the sensation of a warm hand slipping into his own. He chanced a glance over at Blaine, shocked to see his eyes shining with tears and an enormous grin on his face. “You found me,” he said softly, gazing at Kurt with abject wonder.

Kurt swallowed. “You really believe me,” he breathed. Blaine just nodded and smiled, lifting Kurt’s hand to kiss the back of it. Kurt nearly _swooned_ at the gesture.

“Actually,” Blaine began tentatively, “and please tell me if this is too much, because I have a tendency to overdo things, but...could we maybe take a nap? Together? I’m still really tired and it might help us sleep? Not that you - I mean, for all I know you slept fine, I mean you _look_ fantastic, I--um. I’ll stop talking now.”

Kurt smiled, his heart filling up with something that was somehow giddy and serene at the same time. “I barely slept a wink,” he admitted. “A nap sounds incredible.”

Kurt lent Blaine a pair of pajamas, and they both couldn’t help but giggle as they pulled back the covers and slipped underneath, their bodies winding together as if they had been doing this every day of their lives. Blaine wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt, and _oh,_ it was so much better than pillow-Blaine. So much better with Blaine’s warm, firm body and the rise and fall of Blaine’s breathing against him.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked softly after a few moments, not even sure if Blaine was still awake. He knew they would never fully understand what had happened, but there was something that kept bothering him and he needed to know.

“Hmm?” Blaine murmured against Kurt’s shoulder.

“That potion you drank...what was it?”

Kurt could _feel_ Blaine smile against him. It was a barely noticeable but completely wonderful sensation. “It was to help my soul mate find me,” he answered, and Kurt tried not to gasp audibly, but as close as Blaine was, it was almost impossible that he hadn’t heard. “I was just so sick of the dating game in this town, especially amongst gay guys. I was ready for the real thing.”

“Oh. And do you...do you think it worked?” Kurt’s voice was barely above a whisper. Blaine shifted, propping himself up on an elbow to peer down at Kurt.

“Yeah,” Blaine said softly. “I do. Do you?”

Kurt licked his lips. “Yeah. I know it’s crazy, but--”

“It’s not crazy,” Blaine said softly, and pressed the sweetest, most tender kiss imaginable to Kurt’s lips.

Their lips were still touching when they fell asleep, Blaine’s arm wound tightly around Kurt’s waist.

It was the absolute best nap of Kurt’s entire life.


End file.
